Endgame
by Swashbucklist
Summary: The Absolution is about to E.X.P.L.O.D.E.
1. Space is the Place

Disclaimer: Original characters and universe belong to Sean Akins and Jason DeMarco. Original comic was created by numerous people who scripted, drew, inked, lettered, and edited the entire thing, it is understood, for free. They didn't make a cent off it, and neither will I.

A/N: This marks the last of my Toonami fanfiction adapted from any sort of narrative in the source material. This time around, an especially big thanks is in order for Obsidian Productions on FanFiction and Hat-Man on DeviantArt, whose reviews for "Toonami: Dead or Alive" are more than I ever would have believed. I'm especially thankful to Hat-Man, as he is responsible for having gathered up all the scattered panels from the original "Endgame" comic and arranging them in sequence on his DA page and YouTube account. Not only was that a big help to me, it was awesome for Toonami and any fans who may be interested.

So sit back, grab a can, bottle, or mug, and let me know how this fic compares to the rest. Anyone who thinks the first line sounds familiar gets an appreciative nod. Take heed, it's obscure and very unspecific.

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><p><strong>ENDGAME<strong>

**Episode 1: Space is the Place**

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><p>"Take her up. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's it … keep 'er goin' …" Two Clydes, each clamped to either end of a girder, responded carefully to TOM's directions. Being the size of volleyballs, they kept it aloft using their relatively powerful antigrav cells while TOM made sure everything lined up. Normally, fixes like this weren't necessary on the <em>Absolution<em>, but recent events had placed it under some pretty intense hyperspace strain, warping and damaging more structure than Ghost Planet Industries could pay for. That had been many months ago, and there was still more to be done.

"Right there," TOM said once he was sure that everything was aligned. Hovering watchfully behind the Clyde 50's, a trio of Clyde 52's expressed smiley faces. "Way to go, guys," TOM told the eyeball-shaped 50's. "Take a break." After securing the girder with heavy bolts, he activated his plasma torch and set to welding it firmly in place. This corner of the ship had been sealed up and pumped with oxygen so the heat could do its work, making whiteness flare across this reflective optic visor as the torch lit up. The Clyde 50's, the only two left on the entire ship, departed. This made room for the Clyde 52's—mere bottle cap imitations that couldn't do much more than shift through different emoticons on their face-screens—to crowd in and smile away at TOM as he worked.

"Ah, beat it. You guys are useless."

Their circular screens scrolled over to an angry face, a sad face, and a shocked face, respectively.

"Okay, okay …" he tapped off the plasma torch. "You, uh … you provide an amusing aesthetic to the … uh … variety of established themes Toonami is know for. How's that?" All three Clydes immediately and simultaneously scrolled over to blank faces. TOM ignored them and reactivated the plasma torch to continue welding. When he glanced over a few seconds later, the indignant Clyde 52's had buzzed off to find something else to do.

"I swear, whoever designed those things must've been joking around."

"We broadcast to Earth," Sara pointed out. "And not all of the hosts on this show … meaning none … have expressive, changeable faces. So the Clyde 52's do make sense from a marketing point of view."

"That's no excuse. They want another generation of little helper robots, they should at least give us some that have actual functions. Being cute is not a function. Besides, we've gotten along just fine without putting a pleasant and trustworthy visage on this guy." He thumbed to himself, even though Sara wouldn't see his gesture without a Clyde present.

"I dare you to say we could've afforded better," Sara countered. "With the amount of damage done to the _Absolution_'s structural integrity, our Clyde fund was running pretty dry."

"_That_ was a pain," TOM half-chuckled. They could joke about it now that their lives weren't in peril anymore. "But I still say they're a pretty lame generation of Clyde. Fun, but frankly lame. I mean, they can't even do half the things the 50's can!" He threw his hands out haphazardly, causing the torch to slip out of his big fingers and clatter to the floor.

"You're not exactly Mister Smooth yourself," Sara commented wryly.

"Hey, are we totally forgetting the massive freaking ordeal that put the _Absolution_ in such crummy shape to begin with?" he argued, scooping up the tool and gesticulating with it more carefully this time. "I fought my way through a virus-infected system and came pretty darn close to beating the crap out of a psychotic AI with a god complex. I'm was pretty amazing, and that's not my ego speaking." He went back to the welding.

"Sorry, Tom, but it actually wasn't much different than if you had been playing a total-immersion video game." She maintained a sympathetic tone of voice. "Laws of physics in the cyberverse are very accommodating. If you'd had to do all that in the real world, you would have failed rather quickly."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Guess that means I'm just a glorified gamer." He didn't say this without some satisfaction.

"If that's how you want to look at it," Sara laughed.

TOM realized he was letting the nozzle of the plasma torch run off the mark and quickly guided it back. "But hey, I'm still more-or-less a badass. Who takes care of all the maintenance and stuff around here?"

Sara whined hesitantly, "Well … You do sufficient work."

"'S'cuse me?" he said with mock-offense, stepping back to consider both his handiwork and Sara's words.

"I recall you grumbling quite a bit the first time you had to do a great deal of repair work when our engines were shut down and our communication was all but shot."

"Oh, yeah," TOM admitted as he remembered himself uttering such complaints as, "Man, this stuff is complicated," and "I don't think I was built for this." Presently, he concluded, "I guess it's easy to think I'm a wizard when there's no one better to match myself against. Still, I'm better at it now."

"You're a regular Han Solo."

TOM turned and strode through the airlock, his flush audio receptors picking up the receding hiss as the gasses were sucked out. A Clyde, the one who'd helped him the most during the hyperspace ordeal, floated up to him with a parcel clamped underneath its body. He'd begun calling this his "Companion Clyde" after finishing (and singing the praises of) _Portal_. He took the package, which was lumber-shaped and taller than he was by ten inches, awkwardly under his arm and gave the Companion Clyde his tools so it could return them to the utility compartment.

"You probably already know what's in here, since you're basically roommates with my internet ..." he said, reaching the bridge and going through the motions of unpacking his mail, "... but check it out anyway." In the stylistic packing material was a metal staff that bore a T-shaped appendage at the end. Three upward-facing nozzles were built into the appendage, two at either tip, one in the middle. "Pretty sweet, right?"

"Familiar as we are, I never took you for the type to collect cheesy-looking weapons that are made for nothing more than display."

"Yeah, well that's not all. Look, here's the real treat." He activated the contrived weapon, which triggered the manifestation of three fiery blades at the end. Ignited, it resembled a trident. "Again, pretty cool, right?"

"It just looks like a big fork to me," Sara sighed. She glanced curiously at a radar scan of nearby space, but continued mocking the Toonami host. "Can I just pretend to be impressed? _Ooo, ahhh._"

TOM deactivated the trident and rested it on his shoulder. "What's up?" he asked, indicating the map.

"Oh, it just looked like there was a glitch in the scan. Probably one of those ghost signals."

"Ghost signals?"

"Yes. This sector of space has, for a while, been the source of some urban legend about weak distress signals straying about."

"Maybe we should look into it a little if it's a distress signal," TOM recommended.

"It's been going on for years. I'd rather we leave it to people with time and money to waste who actually _want_ to be conspiracy hunters. There's a lot of space here. I'm better off in the company of people who have the time and money to waste on useless weapon replicas … You know, the power supplies on those things are hardly meant to hold out."

"That just makes it safer."

"Are you actually going to _use_ it for something?"

"I can't really think of anything, no. Although maybe I can write my name in the air …"

"Sounds like time and money well invested," Sara said with an eye-roll that none but her could see. "Just to be clear, though, that's about all I'm comfortable seeing you do with it. Don't even get me started on your Starcycle."

"Yeah, yeah, not Bruce Lee; don't worry, Sara, I'm aware." TOM set the trident aside as he assured her. Returning to his seat, he rubbed his chin curiously. "So, back to the _Absolution_: how are your readings on it?"

"Not as bad as they could be … but still not up to snuff. We still have at least another six-point-eight percent of the structure to replace or it won't be qualified for hyperspace travel for much longer."

TOM sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. 'Cept not with all the technical specs."

"The devil is in the details," Sara chimed. But the inflection dropped at the end of her voice as she glanced again at the radar.

"Hey, a bunch of new games came in the same package as my trident, you wanna—"

"_Tom, incoming!_"

TOM jumped to his feet in alarm and looked up through the canopy as a spiked cluster of light popped out of a random point in space. Darting through the vacuum just outside, it skimmed down past the edge of the _Absolution_ on a course toward the ship's underside, making TOM shift his gaze to a live feed on one of the bridge's holographic screens. The outboard camera was aimed at the reactor housing beneath the ship, which glowed with energy that was channeled to the Talon STs. The photon torpedo struck and exploded, lighting up all that energy and completely demolishing the reactor housing with an impact that sent waves of concussive force rippling through every level of the ship. In no time, they reached the bridge and TOM was thrown to the deck.


	2. Depthcharge

Disclaimer: Original characters and universe belong to Sean Akins and Jason DeMarco.

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><p><strong>ENDGAME<strong>

**Episode 2: Depthcharge**

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><p>The <em>Absolution<em> was still. Whatever motion the huge ship retained was due to the recent impact and the momentum left from its no longer functioning engines as it slowed to a halt in the middle of deep space. Surrounded by red flashes and alarms, TOM pushed himself up in the dark bridge. Any time the _Absolution_'s control center got this dark or noisy, it was bad news, and now it was suffering both symptoms at the same time. He looked at the outboard camera feed to see the great empty spot that the ship's reactor had occupied less than a minute ago. The sight of scorched and twisted metal made his stomach sink.

"Oh, man … What the heck hit us, Sara?"

"It looks like a guided photon mine," she responded promptly, displaying a freeze-frame of the video. "It came out of that same point in space where I thought I'd seen a glitch in the radar. As we can now determine, it was no glitch."

"No kidding. It just came out of nowhere you say?"

"It did. Only now …" —an outboard camera zoomed in on the location they were discussing— "… something's there."

TOM cocked his head at the image. On the holographic screen was the culprit ship which had apparently just dropped its cloaking. It was sleek and tough-looking, but not a fighter. This thing had bulk, likely meant to house weapons and probably extra power cells as well, but most of that extra volume was armor. It's engines were massive, suggesting along with its other features and modifications that this ship was owned by someone with money and resources. Someone who, to put it bluntly, would always get where they wanted to go and get there with whatever they wanted. And while TOM continued studying it, it began to move.

"Are we getting any transmissions from it?" he asked quickly.

"None. It seems to have a very specific purpose, and probably isn't going to share any information that isn't another attack." Sara shifted the holographic screens to show him a feed from the other Clyde 50. On it, they saw the ship swooping over the _Absolution_ like a sea predator while firing a few payloads from its underside. Clyde panned to keep the payloads in frame. Upon contact with the hull, they spilled outward into squirming bunches, revealing themselves to be scouring machines of some kind. They looked like maggots with huge mouths and ant-like mobile appendages.

"What are they doing?" TOM wondered. "Can that Clyde get any closer?"

Sara urged the obedient Clyde to get a closer look at the machines' activity.

"Oh, no … They're eating their way through the ship's hull!"

"Wrong," Sara deadpanned. "They're already inside."

It was just as she said: the swarm of machines Clyde was focused on was pouring in through a breach they'd torn in the hull plating. Before they were all in, however, one of the last few spun with a motion like a leech in water, spotted the Clyde, and lunged at it. The _Absolution_'s crewhad a detailed view of its gaping intake valve, swirling with a complex arrangement of nasty-looking blades and grinders, before the image fizzed, broke up, and went black.

"Looks like it's gonna be another one of those days. Jeez, this is getting _serious_."

"It already is serious, Tom."

"Guess this kinda solves the mystery of those stray distress signals, huh?"

"It seems that way."

"Tell me you've already called the cops."

"I alerted the Galactic Police Patrol a long time ago. But the nearest outpost is a great distance away. Any response unit they send won't get here soon enough to make a difference."

"Well, at least they know. I guess this means we're gonna have to hang tight and let this guy take what he wants while hoping he doesn't kill us." Despair gave way to curiosity. He scratched his chin again in deep thought. "But what _does_ he want? Sara, how about the things that ship just deployed? Can you tell where they're going?"

"One swarm is making a path to the auxiliary power station. The other one is headed aft, but … it appears to have stopped somewhere in the middle of the ship. Near the compartment in which your second unit was activated, but not in it. It looks as if the first swarm is aiming to shut down our power, but I'm not sure what the second one is up to."

"That ship fired three of those things. Where's the third?"

"Dormant. It's just waiting there on the outside of the ship, probably in reserve."

"If only we still had the DOKs, they could probably handle them. Instead all we have are …" he turned to see one of the Clyde 52's wearing a scared emoticon face and jerked his thumb at it, "… these guys." He sighed. "We're like a body with a one-man immune system. Shame we get sick more often than anyone else."

"I sent your Companion Clyde to the armory while we've been standing around talking. It should be here soon with a weapon."

A clanging, grinding sound suddenly reverberated through the _Absolution__'s_ framework. "Now what is it?" TOM demanded.

"Movement from outside," informed Sara. "The enemy ship has attached itself to the dorsal section of the _Absolution._"

"What's it—?"

"Preparing to fire!"

TOM was knocked to the floor from a blast that shattered the entire canopy over his head, exposing the bridge to the clear, frigid emptiness of outer space. A few stray bits of debris rained down on the Toonami host as he shook his head and struggled to recover from the shock.

"Tom! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think I'm okay." He pushed himself up and looked through the gaping hole above him. Standing on the rim of the bridge's ceiling was the assailant. The incredibly large, dangerous-looking assailant, who glared down at him with eyes that smoldered with more evil intent than the Toonami host had ever seen in real life or in any of the villains from the shows and movies he typically watched. And that was saying something.

The intruder's body was a massive golem-like thing, similar in form to a cartoon wrestler's exaggerated proportions: broad shoulders, barrel chest, and limbs like heavy construction equipment, albeit with bulges and edges that mechanically corresponded to an organic muscle structure. Sitting atop all this was a head that, like the ship outside, resembled some predatory sea creature that would hide in the sand at the ocean's bottom. It was flat and angular, with large, burning amphibious eyes, and its outer edges sprouted a net of segmented metal tentacles. Some of these tentacles were wrapped around its arms and torso, others were loose and wavering about like feelers.

The huge intruder stepped casually off the edge of the canopy rim and descended into the bridge. TOM feared for a second that he was about to be crushed under a pair of giant metal boots and staggered back a few steps. The giant's landing caused an enormous reverberation that made TOM's feet part an inch or two from the deck. While recovering his balance, he inadvertently noticed that the intruder was unarmed but for a softly-glowing cube clutched in his left hand. He could tell by sight that it was some pretty advanced tech, but not what it was for. He also noticed, with greater impact, that the intruder was twice his height.

_What the hell do I do now?_ he wondered desperately._ Stand here and wait for him to plunk me?_

If he had been made of flesh, his knees probably would have been shaking. Sure he'd been in dangerous situations before and had faced down some serious baddies, but this … this was almost more intense than he could handle. Not only was he physically in the same room with a powerful and extremely dangerous killer (and there was no doubt as to whether or not this guy partook in the execution business), but this was all happening on his own ship, in the familiar surroundings of the _Absolution__._ This time he was without resources, without a plan, and since the intruder was between himself and the exit, no escape route. Sara was right: danger in real life was infinitely more threatening than anything the cyberverse could dish out. Be he a hero or a television host, he was at this moment reduced to the equivalent of a normal man facing a dangerous criminal in his living room. This was real mortal fear. And they still didn't know why he was here on a broadcast ship of all places. He suspected they were about to find out, though.

Unconsciously making a conciliatory gesture with his hands, he began, "Look, we don't know who you—"

"Orcelot Rex." The pirate spoke like low thunder, putting no effort into the menace in his voice as he casually scanned the bridge.

"O-okay. Well, we don't have anything to do with you, so just take what you want and …" Orcelot Rex's eyes swiveled to Sara's face, which remained on the holographic screens over the hub. If it were possible, TOM's insides got a few degrees colder. "_Except_ h—" What would have become a protest was cut short as the pirate easily backhanded him across the helmet and sent him to the deck once more, this time with his visor cracked and his head spinning. Before the smaller robot could rise, Orcelot Rex casually planted a huge metal boot on his back and strode over him as if he were a caterpillar on the sidewalk. Despite some audible straining and the possibility of a few cracks, TOM's torso held together, but barely. He certainly wasn't in any shape to get up right away.

Sara stayed quiet, not wanting to divulge anything that the space pirate could use as leverage. She knew it was wiser to remain painfully silent and trust TOM to handle the situation as well as he could, but so far it was killing her. She forcefully compartmentalized her emotions.

Stopping before the computer hub, Orcelot observed the holographic manifestation of his quarry. "A Sara AI … capable of supreme rationing ability. Advanced robot mind nonplug ultra … And mine for the taking."

"Sara, vacate that server!" TOM shouted as soon as he had the cognitive ability to speak again.

She didn't need to be told twice. Her profile vanished. All screens and control lights on the hub followed suit, sending the bridge into darkness. In the deadly silence that followed, Orcelot Rex slowly turned to glare over his shoulder across the suddenly shadowy room at TOM. His glowering red eyes shone in the dark.

"If I had a weapon on me," the pirate said nonchalantly, "I would blast you for that."

"She would've done it anyway," TOM shot back, struggling to sound confident, reasonable, and nonthreatening all at the same time. He wasn't sure he pulled it off. "Sara knows how to defend herself."

The leering eyes of the space pirate narrowed with a black, ugly mirth. "Not from me."

A massive fist was raised and driven straight down into the computer hub, sending showers of sparks in all directions that temporarily dispelled the shadows. Sara would be unable to return to that server. Orcelot turned and strode back across the deck, stomping TOM into it once more. He'd apparently done it for nothing beyond satisfaction, because a second later he fired a heavy-duty jetpack that pushed him back up outside the _Absolution_. TOM could do little more at the moment than consider himself lucky; the guy could have torn him in half if he'd wanted to.

Taking into account the pain that his built-in nerve sensors were sending to his brain, he struggled to work out what to do next. Most of Sara's systems were located in the communications bay, which was protected behind another curved shield of one-way glass at the nose of the ship. That's where she would have retreated in hopes of bringing online anything she could use to combat Orcelot Rex and help TOM. And if Rex was as resourceful and savvy as he'd so far demonstrated, that would be his next destination as well.

_Meaning that's also where I gotta go. For whatever good I might do._

But while he was occupied with peeling himself off the floor, movement in the corner of his damaged visor made him rethink how the next few minutes would unfold. That dormant payload of the same maggot-like scourge machines that had eaten their way through the _Absolution_'s hull were now pouring over the edges of the still-fresh aperture that the canopy had once occupied. With cold, insect-like intent, they made their way down the bulkheads and toward the middle of the bridge where TOM was unsteadily rising to his feet.


	3. Commence Destruction

Disclaimer: Original characters and universe belong to Sean Akins and Jason DeMarco.

A/N: Big apologies for my lack of activity. I feel unpardonably despicable for making everyone wait and then dropping a fresh chapter in your laps, especially considering how terrific most of you are. Sorry, folks. Thing is, updates to my fanfiction may become even less frequent than they already are, but for a good reason. I now have a job that works me ten hours a day (plus forty minutes to and from), four days a week. Good news for my bank account, but not my free time. So … yeah, that's my excuse. It's a good one, though, right?

In other news: in the wake of those lengthy and insightful responses to Dead or Alive, I can't help but feel that I'm sorta falling short of those standards with Endgame. It seems like there's so much more that could be done with this story, but I don't know what. The original comic only offers so much to work with! Perhaps more time must be spent in the depths of my consciousness. If only those ponies would move over and make some room for the robots.

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><p><strong>ENDGAME<strong>

**Episode 3: Commence Destruction**

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><p>Orcelot Rex alighted on the <em>Absolution<em>'s dorsal section like a weightless Goliath. He brought his arm up to chest level and a small control panel slid open just behind his wrist where he punched in some commands. Behind him, his assault ship detached from the weaker yet infinitely larger vehicle's plating and gently thrust itself forward until it was hovering over the nose of the broadcast ship. It fired another small explosive into the vessel's prow end, burning through the deep blue one-way glass to create a fresh hole complete with enormous cracks in its opaque surface. Then it returned to the _Absolution_ where it re-engaged its versatile clamps, gripping its comparatively softer plating like claws.

Rex strolled forward with magnetic footsteps across the _Absolution_'s contoured body. Even with naturally broad strides, it took a minute to reach the prow from the command center, but he had no need to make haste. Passing his assault ship and approaching the smelted aperture, he descended through it. His scanners indicated that this would be the section that contained the last server his target AI could retreat to. By now his Skurges would have sought and destroyed any others.

He dropped in with a heavy thud and surveyed his surroundings. He was obviously in the communications bay, if the forward-facing antennae and its communications package that extended forth from outside was any clue. At its throat, the bay was accessible by a short walkway that terminated in a discular platform sporting a standard console setup and an array of monitors mounted on arms. His AI had her face displayed in quarters on the four largest monitors. Corporeal eyes met digital ones from opposite ends of the short walkway.

"The Galactic Police Patrol has already been alerted to our exact location," she informed him.

"They don't matter," Rex assured her in low, menacing tones as a hint of avarice lurked just beneath the surface. "Were they to make an early appearance, I feel confident that I could fight them off. But we will have departed before their arrival, plus they will never be able to track my ship. Even the most advanced surveillance technology available in this sector would have difficulty accomplishing that if they didn't know it was there. You certainly couldn't detect it."

"Just to make you aware," Sara countered, "I nearly did get a reading on your ship."

Rex fixed her with a solid glare. "Part of the reason I aim to collect you. You're a remarkable piece of machinery." He pressed a button on the cube he still held, then watched it as a light in its core blinked on and pieces of its framework shifted or unfolded.

"You are _not_ taking me from this ship!" Sara reacted by shoving the entire screen array up to his slightly smaller face. It was a gesture that would only have intimidated an already weak individual, so it was just childish to intimidation incarnate. But she didn't expect to make an impression, only to punctuate her resolve.

"Your future does not involve being stuck indefinitely on a cheap broadcast ship, construct," her enemy asserted without so much as glancing up from his examination of the data extraction cube. He hadn't even moved from where he'd initially planted his feet. "You're fated to be my instrument regardless of what your own imperative dictates."

"You'd best be ready to be fought every step of the way. I'm not the sort of girl to give quarter to intruders. That's happened too many times on this ship."

Orcelot Rex allowed himself a grim chuckle. "Amusing choice of words." Finally advancing, he gripped the inside edge of one of the monitors and ripped the entire thing free with a surge of violence. Shredded casing, electrical cables, and pneumatic compression lines all hissed and sparked after being severed by his ferocious mechanical strength. He easily tossed the deactivated monitor off the walkway where it fell out of range of the ship's artificial gravity and bumped lightly against the inside surface of the canopy.

Sara redistributed her face to each individual screen. She silently cursed in the back of her mind.

"As I'm sure you already know, this is no ordinary data extraction device."

Rex tossed his cube through the gap he'd made. It landed on the console and stuck there by means of powerful magnets built into its corners. A variety of connectors probing from the tips of segmented cable-arms sprang from its sides and sought out access ports to plug into. To Sara's shock and dismay, though mostly shock, the device instantly shut down every firewall, anti-malware program, and other line of defense that she possessed. After what felt to her like minutes, but was in reality a mere few seconds, it touched her mind and started to download.

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><p>Minutes earlier, the bridge was in absolute chaos. The metal-eating things were pouring in faster than TOM could beat them away, which gave him the disturbing sensation of being an enemy in the middle of a pissed-off anthill. The worst part was that without illumination from the lights or even the hub screens, he was nearly in pitch blackness, with nothing but starlight and the occasional sparks from the computer hub's wreckage to show him where the attackers were. For the most part he never saw them coming until they were close enough to get their creepy legs on him. It was a continuous marvel that he was still struggling with them, albeit frantically.<p>

_Guess this should be one of those times I'm glad to be made of metal instead of flesh, or this would hurt like crazy_. A metal hide bumped his shin and was viciously kicked away._ I just wish there weren't so many of the damn things!_ He suddenly found himself caught in an intense moment, grappling one attacker by a cluster of legs and another by the very rim of its grinding orifice, awkwardly using their bodies to block the rest while a third one came scuttling up his back on a path to his head.

"Clyde, where the hell are you!" He wasn't ashamed of the desperation in his voice.

Clyde had probably been just outside the door struggling to build up the courage to enter. But once it was summoned, the door cycled open and it swooped in. Taking a risk, TOM dropped the thrashing things and reached up to grab the Kiefer A-1 plasma rifle as Clyde swept past. A few precious seconds were wasted getting his finger to the trigger before he aimed the weapon over his shoulder, hoping it wasn't locked into its photon grenade setting, and fired. A high-pitched buzz told him it was the cutting laser, but the prickly legs clambering up onto his helmet told him he'd missed. He instead managed to wedge the gun barrel under the thing and pry it off. Using the butt to knock the others away, he took a proper stance and commenced cutting apart the shadows with the Kiefer's thin red beam, aiming wherever he saw movement in the blackness. It sliced through the bodies of hostiles with the crackling of scorched machinery while doing a nice job of cutting a few chunks out of the bridge as well.

"Man, I've never been able to go to town with this thing before! Sure wish I had time to enjoy it a lot more." Making his way through the carnage toward the exit, he locked in the electron beam and reduced everything he had time to aim at to gently smoking husks. Unfortunately, that didn't include the ones pouring in from overhead. He only noticed them when Clyde gave a shrill whine while looking up. TOM heeded its warning and brought his rifle up just in time to have the barrel swallowed by one. The weapon jerked and vibrated violently in his hands while it was chewed up. With an exclamation, he tossed the whole mess into a dark corner and backed away into the other. Luckily, it was the same corner in which he'd stashed his trident, which he quickly snatched up. Perhaps it was just a toy, but at least he wasn't weaponless. Highlighting the bridge with its orange prongs, he raised it overhead and speared an oncoming machine. For a toy, the damage done wasn't so bad, it just wasn't something a military would ever limit themselves to.

"Clyde, go get me another A-1, then meet me at the doors to the communications bay."

As Clyde flitted away, TOM swung the business end of his pseudo weapon from side to side. The hostiles appeared to have just enough intelligence to charge into it and dispatch themselves while he sidestepped toward the bridge portal, determined to get out sometime within the next few hours. "Well, good news, Sara was actually wrong about something for once." Unfortunately, there appeared to be a limit to how many squirming machine bodies it could slice through before the power supply started dwindling. By the time it was drained, there were only two or three left. TOM finally fled the bridge and ran flat-out, hoping he and his Companion Clyde could make it to the communications bay in time.

He stopped in his tracks as a pre-recorded sound file of Sara's voice abruptly zipped through his head. From the sound of it, she didn't have the time to speak normally and had compensated by flashing up some basic information into a condensed audio file to play for him. _"Firewalls deactivated. Complete data retrieval sequence initiated. Zip protocol initiated."_ Then came the actual message. _"TOM, I'm not in the ship's server network anymore. He's prying me out. Find somewhere to hide."_

"He … pried her out of the _Absolution_?" This information chilled him to the core. The guy was dangerous alright. Standing in the hallway, he carefully reasoned out the situation as best he could, knuckles rapping against helmet."Okay, uh, we're way past risk-free, but there's gotta be some non-stupid way I can handle this." He started to pace nervously, thinking up half a dozen options before realizing he was simply wasting valuable time while the likelihood of retrieving Sara faded away by the second. "Aw, heck, I'm just gonna have to chase them. _She'd_ call me stupid if I didn't stay put right now, but then I'd have to call _myself_ crazy. I gotta be one or the other." Picking a new route through the ship, he called out as he ran, "Clyde, change of plans! Meet me in the starboard cargo hold."

_Sara will be fine … I can do this …_

As his feet pounded down the corridors toward the rear of the ship, only one yet-unsolved mystery bothered him. Sara had told him there was a pack of those things gathered around the auxiliary power supply. But the lights were still on and the elevator still worked. Why hadn't they destroyed it? Continuing to run full-tilt down the length of his ship, he had no answer.

By the time he reached his destination, two minutes had elapsed. Time in which the pirate had likely disappeared into the ice-cold cosmos with Sara (and more than plenty of time for his minions to eat up the auxiliary). Even with the knowledge that he was probably just going to get outside to find nothing, he crossed the expanse of floor to where his Starcycle waited, the one Sara had so easily denounced as an impulse buy. It had a sleek oval-shaped housing with flat sides that stretched ahead of the seat like a comet, then a cluster of four proportionally large thrusters in back. And of course he hadn't been able to resist sprucing it up a little with decals: on one side a Green Hornet logo, a Bat signal, and a chrome "007" shield, and on the other a stylized stencil of a featureless white face partially concealed by a black slouch hat next to a yin-yang.

Unwilling to relinquish the one and only thing that could be called a weapon, he stashed the unlit trident staff lengthwise on the cargo rack.

"Steady or not, here I come." Once again he was glad to be an automaton, since his hands weren't shaking like they would be if he'd had all the delicate aspects of flesh and blood. But that didn't mean his hand didn't jerk away from the door control a little when when a massive thud reverberated through the floor and up the chassis of his vehicle. "What the …?"

A hole opened up in the middle of the towering doors. TOM wasn't sure if Rex had known he would come to the cargo section or if he was just having his machines scour it to see if there was anything more that could be taken, but since they were here now, TOM decided not to be.

He switched on the repulsors and opened the throttle, aiming for the corner exit of the cargo bay. Heading for the port cargo bay would be ideal, but there were too many doors between them at the moment. Once he'd gotten the Starcycle into the hallway where it was never meant to be piloted, he was forced to slow down to avoid crashing wildly off the sides. Unfortunately, his pursuers didn't give him much of a choice. There was a camera located just beneath the Starcycle's thrusters that fed into a screen on his dashboard. It allowed him to see the things propelling themselves along the floor, walls, and ceiling at a faster rate than he could safely drive. He found it annoying that the one and only exit that he knew wasn't crawling with them was at the opposite end of the ship, but at least it was a pretty direct route. He lowered his helmet and shoulders as much as possible while scrapes and dents appeared on all sides of his vehicle.

"Yo, if there are any Clyde 52's on the upper levels, summon the elevator up there _right now._" Surely the 52's could at least punch buttons with their framework, right? His guess was rewarded by seeing the elevator at the end of the hallway shoot up out of sight. After closing in a little more, he jumped the remaining distance at top speed, smashing through the convex elevator doors and nearly throwing himself into the shaft from the jarring impact. Now came the hard part. Tapping the thrusters and fiddling around with the repulsors, he jimmied his ride inside while struggling to stand it on its end. It got jammed spared a second to glance back at the encroaching hostiles, which made him realize that he didn't have any seconds to spare whatsoever. Tucking himself in, he set the thrusters on full and poured heat into the deck plating until something snapped. A split-second later he was rocketing up the elevator shaft creating twice as many dents as before. "Okay, now bring it back down, Clyde!"

As the elevator pod descended, TOM stopped at the deck he wanted, angled his bike, and shattered that bubble door as well. It was easier getting out than getting in for some reason. He cleared the shaft and glanced back to watch the elevator whoosh past him, satisfied that it was about to plow through a swarm of machines. "Well that was fun. Too bad I'll never have an excuse to do it again."

He set his sight forward and powered through the length of the ship as fast as he dared, lights racing over his bike fast enough that they appeared to be blinking rapidly on and off. As the length of the hallway was eaten up, another Clyde 52 with a surprised face popped out of nowhere, prompting him to reach out and snatch it. _Not really useful,_ he thought, tucking it into a storage compartment,_ … but maybe I can grab Sara while Rex is busy laughing at it._ He passed beneath where the bridge would be, wishing he could exit that way but for the hostile presence up there. Instead, he desperately increased his speed, praying despite the obvious danger that Orcelot Rex would still be around when he escaped the confines of his own ship.

Within seconds, he reached the communications bay and pulled up to clear the mounted screens. He saw the hole Rex had punched in the shield glass and gunned for it. Through the camera again he watched the discular platform and its damaged monitors drop away beneath him. He'd never seen them from that angle before. And he never would again.

Once outside, he scanned space all around the _Absolution_, searching for the ominous ship. It was off the starboard side, twenty degrees below the _Absolution_'s plane, making its retreat. He knew his comparatively puny Starcycle would never be able to match the powerful engines on Rex's ship, but he didn't exactly feel like sitting around either. _There's no telling where she might be by the time the GPP shows up._ He opened the throttle as far as it would go and surged after them.

From his changing perspective, the _Absolution_'s enormous bow tilted away, allowing him to see down the rest of the ship's astronomical length. At a less urgent time, he would be able to appreciate the incredible size of the _Absolution_ and marvel at the fact that he lived on it and worked from it. But with Sara in danger, there was no place in his mind for that. _So many cool thing are happening today because of that AI-napping jerk, but I can't enjoy any of them for the same reason! We'll just see what happens when I catch up to them._ His frustration was compounded by the fact that the size of his ship and the amount of time it took to shrink from his peripheral vision gave the impression that he was moving far too slowly.

But as soon as he couldn't see it anymore, something made him look back. It could have been a precipitous moment from the rear-view screen, a nigh-unnoticeable flash at the corner of his vision, or the hand of some divine intelligence tapping him on the shoulder. Orcelot Rex and Sara were still well within sight, so without slowing down too much, he turned a little in his seat. Although the day so far had put him in the right state of mind to expect pretty much anything, he was not prepared for what came next.


	4. Dead Echoes

Disclaimer: Original characters and universe belong to Sean Akins and Jason DeMarco.

* * *

><p><strong>ENDGAME<strong>

**Episode 4: Dead Echoes**

* * *

><p>Twin eruptions swelled up from two different locations within the <em>Absolution<em>'s structure. One toward the back where TOM, years ago, had awoken in a fresh automaton unit and the other one near the auxiliary power station. The bombs had their with the ship, breaking the entire thing into three massive chunks while further destruction sheared through its body lengthwise, ripping it into even smaller fragments. The fingers of destruction soon found tubes and storage tanks that held oxygen and other gases relevant to the ship's operations. They emerged from the broadcast ship's guts with a blinding starburst, lighting up the lifeless vacuum of cold space with furious white and orange heat. But their energy was swallowed up by the sheer lack of life in deep space with saddening quickness. The short, final burst of life was gone in a flash, vanishing back into the the angry mess that the _Absolution_ was becoming and leaving thin gray clouds of wasted carbon behind.

"Holy _shit!_"

TOM didn't feel the shockwave that part of him half expected, but he did react to the wave of debris that was expanding toward him. Fortunately, the repulsors could double as thrusters when there wasn't a hard surface to react to. They allowed him to angle the Starcycle between himself and the oncoming rush of metal, glass, and plastics just in time to keep from getting shredded. He hung on and felt the vibrations of the debris pinging and bouncing off the bottom of his small vehicle. When the onslaught had quieted down, he tilted it back into position to see exactly what had become of the _Absolution_. There wasn't much left.

He could pick many familiar-looking chunks out of the wreckage, but now they were nothing more than scorched and twisted pieces of what had once been something whole. While smoke streamed from its guts, the larger pieces of the once-impressive ship gently bumped and scraped against one another, creating dead clangs and silent echoes that would never be heard in the airless vacuum between stars. The all-consuming silence that characterized deep space seemed very appropriate all of a sudden.

The Clyde 52 floated out of its place in the Starcycle's compartment and stared over its boss's shoulder with a shocked emoticon. The Toonami host didn't need a face to show what he was feeling. His body language said it all: the way his fingers gripped the handles of his vehicle, the way his torso was hunched, the hesitant way his head moved as he surveyed the scene of destruction.

"They weren't just trying to shut down the power," he said in low voice. "They were targeting critical parts of the ship. The auxiliary station must have been, ike, a pressure point … I can't believe this." In less than ten minutes someone had kicked his way into his life and stomped all over it. And the worst part was, the bastard wasn't finished yet. Much of what was significant to TOM was gone, but the most important piece of all was still in the space pirate's possession. He spun his bike around with the repulsors. "Come on, Clyde. If he's not gonna leave an _Absolution_ for us, there'll be no absolution for him."

The Clyde turned to him with a flat emoticon.

TOM stuttered. "Okay, well … What I mean is … It's just gonna be snatch-and-grab. I'll bet I couldn't take him out even if I wanted to. Bottom line is, we're gonna get Sara back no matter who or what stands in our way. Now let's go."

He tucked the Clyde back into the Starcycle's side compartment and opened the throttle, giving chase to the fugitive who had already disappeared from sight. It didn't escape his conscience that he was leaving behind the corpse of a ship in which he had spent years both living and loving his job. But seeing as all that was suddenly gone, and everything else that mattered to him was in another direction, he felt no regret in leaving the broken remains behind.

About ten seconds drifted by after he started off before a tiny object wandered its way out of the _Absolution_'s wreckage. A dizzy and very overworked Companion Clyde soon materialized, obediently holding onto the Kiefer A-1 vacuum assault rifle that its boss had ordered it to retrieve. Clyde scanned the vicinity for signs of the Toonami host, then spotted him several hundred meters away going the wrong direction. With more than a little frustration building up in its tiny processor, it set out after him.

* * *

><p>The first thing Sara did when she once again became cognizant was explore her virtual surroundings, and what she found was honestly frightening. The data extraction cube she'd been stuffed into had naturally severed her connections to the <em>Absolution<em>'s systems, making her a brain with no body to provide service or even movement. The only saving grace was that she'd been able to compress most of her brain before the forced extraction so that the various facets of her mind could be unfolded again once she was transferred to a device large enough to store her. However, the space that Rex's device allowed her was limited. She had never felt this restricted or confined, though she had expected it. Her current experience wasn't dissimilar from a recent ordeal. But what she hadn't expected was how impossibly isolated she felt this time around. Last time, she'd been trapped in what had felt like a prison cell connected to a larger server. She had been able to sense the world around her. Now, however, she was stuck in a small isolated device that she had even less control over, and as far as she could tell, no external sensory equipment. For all she knew, she could have been tossed into the cosmos and was now drifting through nothingness for eternity. For obvious reasons, though, that could not be the case; the interstellar criminal who had caused all this definitely had plans for her and thus wouldn't just toss her out the window. But that didn't change the fact that the only thing in the universe to keep her interested and sane was a view of her own compressed brain and a lot of quiet. She began to understand what TOM had felt perhaps ten minutes earlier: a level of fear she had not yet experienced.

She steadied her fear and settled on a plan of action. Unfortunately, the only one available to her was complete inaction. She would have to wait for events to come to her without having any ability to speed them up. The feeling did not sit well with her. But luckily, she didn't have to suffer it very long. Six minutes and two-point-three seconds had transpired by the time the external sensors on her prison were activated, dissolving the barrier that kept her from her surroundings. At least she had audio, visual, and speech capabilities back. Her next instinct was to scan the area for TOM or the _Absolution_, but her home-away-from-home lacked the equipment. There was a holographic projector that let her produce an image of herself from the shoulders up on any side of the prison cube. She projected it, but stayed quiet for the time being.

"Welcome to the _Pantheon_," Rex boomed. And that was all for the moment.

They had arrived at their mysterious destination. Orcelot Rex grabbed her cube and departed from the bridge of his assault ship through the airlock. He walked with Sara down an access corridor and emerged into the interior of a ship the likes of which she had never seen, either through her own eyes or any video access. The design was contemporary to be sure, but it possessed elements of an alien mind. They were moving across the floor of a huge cavernous chamber with semicircular portals at intervals that branched off to other sections of the doubtlessly large station. The walls were buttressed by tapering arches that soared up to the ceiling, which, whether intentionally or unintentionally, gave the place a cathedral-like appearance. Also characterizing those walls were infrequent scorch marks that suggested a lot of gunfire had taken place a long time ago.

It was everyone's instinct to look up when entering a huge room. Now Sara looked down. The entire floorspace was a virtual scrapyard, littered with wrecked parts, discarded components, and random pieces torn from machines that had no use anymore. In places, she even spotted the old corpses of other robots. None of it bothered her host, having boots that were large enough and legs long enough to stomp over it all as if it were a shag carpet. The massive crunching sounds that reached Sara's audio receivers alerted her to the fact that this entire place was pressurized with oxygen. She would have been able to determine that sooner with a fully-equipped array of sensors and the systems that went with them. This was frustrating.

Rex swung his arm gently as he proceeded over to a spot several meters off-center of the room. A circular iris that was flush with the floor cycled open, revealing an infinitely dark disposal tube. Sara already figured she was safe, seeing as the chute was for trash and she was anything but. Rex walked over to a large custom-modified device that appeared to have been scraped together from advanced hardware, taken from cannibalized machinery of various origins. He picked it up in one hand and easily chucked it into the tube. It fell out of sight with rattling noises that tapered off into distant echoes. The iris sealed back up.

"I was planning to use that if I ended up with a substandard AI," he said. "Thanks to you, I won't be needing it anymore."

_Ominous,_ Sara thought. _Makes me wonder what he _is_ going to use on me._

As they had moved away from the side of the room from which they'd entered, Sara had been forced to use her peripheral vision to study the rest of it. Now she observed their six o' clock, where at least eight towering monstrosities of varying heights and shapes loomed in the shadows. The eight golems stood guard with their backs against the wall like decorative suits of armor in a castle. Only in this case the suits of armor were potentially dangerous. The strangest part about them was that each model of golem had been modified: their cranial units, which would contain built-in sensory packages, had been removed. It took no longer than a second for Sara to determine why Orcelot Rex had done this. One look at him made it obvious. He wasn't a single unit, but a head walking around on a vehicle.

She decided it was time to speak up. "Are there any other friends of your I've yet to meet?"

"Only minions," the space pirate replied. "I am the only intelligent being in this fortress."

"All of them are machines?" she inquired, but Rex had opted to ignore the rest of her questions.

He carried Sara over to a workstation that, opposite the disposal tube, was set up just off-center of the cavern out in the open. It consisted of a platform that was equipped with an analyzation grid built into its surface and a set of holographic projectors designed for solid-looking images and detailed schematics. Any other equipment in the area was stacked on storage units, and most of it was weaponry that Rex seemed to have just lying around. Thick black cables that reminded Sara of the tentacles of a dead squid snaked through the scattered waste on the floor. Some plugged into the machinery on the ground, but most were draped from the machine that hung over the entire setup. Looming up there from the ceiling was a universal transmitter. A very _big_ universal transmitter.

"Since I appear to be the guest of honor, how about telling me what all of this is for? Or to be more precise, I'd like to know how I fit into whatever agenda you have going on. Surely you have an endgame in mind."

"My endgame has remained perpetually unchanged for a very long time," Orcelot Rex responded. "Ultimate possession." He set her cube in the center of the anylization grid.

Sara stared derisively up at him from the cube. "And now that you 'possess' an advanced Artificial Intelligence Matrix and a large broadcast and exploration vehicle?"

Knowing Rex cared nothing for an L-Class Deep Space Explorer, her real hope was to provoke him into at least hinting what had happened to it. And more importantly to TOM. Unfortunately, she was right to be apprehensive of his answer.

"I possess the same number of ships as I did before attacking yours," Rex responded. "Your old home is trash drifting through the cosmos now. Just as it was before." He held out his hand to casually indicate the universal transmitter overhead. "Why would I need a weak pedestrian broadcast ship?"

"_What …_" Sara tried to keep her reaction compartmentalized, but that wasn't as easy without her normal virtual depth. The word easily escaped her.

"And as for your first question," Rex continued without seeming to notice or care for her emotional state, "using you and your advanced capabilities will allow me to expand on what is already mine. That's the short version."

Sara pushed her feelings back down. She tried to recover her bravado, but her words just came out flat. "Beg pardon, but I don't necessarily see your plan coming to fruition. Especially by someone who looks like a wrestler who had his head swallowed by a carpet shark. I may be stuck with you in your secret lair in the middle of space but I still have my own will. And I can be pretty damned resourceful when the occasion calls for it."

Silence reigned for a few seconds. "You should see the galaxy through my eyes," Rex finally said. He leaned down and languidly placed a massive elbow on the table. "I like to think of space as the thing that's moving. When it's viewed in such a way, it looks as though the entire universe comes to me instead of the other way around."

"That is a unique way of looking at things," Sara commented. "But I'm afraid it's a philosophy I can't really get behind."

Rex tapped her cube with one finger. "Then I hope you'll appreciate the irony of being such an integral part of it," he said, his eyes glowing softly with cold intent swirling behind them.

* * *

><p>Flying through space on a less-than-speedy mode of transportation felt remarkably akin to getting absolutely nowhere. Once the remnants of the <em>Absolution<em> were no longer close enough to be used as a reference point for his position, the universe appeared to simply stop moving around him. The stars and any other nearby celestial bodies were, of course, too far away to suggest any movement whatsoever, which meant that rocketing through them at approximately two hundred miles-per-hour lent him the feeling of sitting completely still on a vibrating machine in the middle of a vast infinity. Besides his speedometer, the only practical indication he was given of his forward progress was the space debris that fizzed against his windshield every few seconds.

Luckily, that was changing. There was a widespread asteroid field spread out right in front of him, and he'd been gunning in that direction for at least twelve or thirteen minutes, determined to reach it. By now he could even see the nearer rocks begin to shift slightly in his perspective as the gaps between them widened. If he was close enough for that, then he was nearly there.

"Our guy is definitely in here somewhere, Clyde," he said to the only entity he could talk to besides himself. "As soon as we were outside, I saw his ship make a beeline right for this place. It's probably his backyard or something." He had indeed seen Orcelot Rex's assault ship shoot off in this direction moments before the bombs in the _Absolution_ went off. With the explosion distracting him he'd lost sight of it, but this asteroid field was the obvious hiding place. With any luck (although TOM had some very abrasive feelings about how his luck was going today), he would find a station or a base of some kind. However, there was the possibility that once Rex was concealed in the forest of rocks he would activate his cloak set course in another direction. This idea created a twisting sensation in TOM's gut. But he doubted that was the case, since Rex no doubt thought he'd blown him up along with the _Absolution_ and didn't think he was much of a threat anyway.

TOM tightened his grip on the handlebars. _We'll see about that._

Gaps widened and pebbles grew to boulders until he was among the hovering rocks. He was forced out of his straight flightpath into a curving, weaving route. A three-dimensional compass on the instrument panel of his Starcycle maintained spatial direction and kept him oriented, but he still had no goal in sight. The place was deserted of life, organic or otherwise, and the only movement came from ponderously shifting chunks of rock and metal.

"Well, this kinda what I planned on using it for, so at least there's that," he muttered. As he executed one tight swerve after another around the slowly-turning masses, his fuel gauge blinked. "What the … Hey, Clyde, take a look down below and see if there's anything wrong."

The Clyde 52 struggled to dislodged itself from the storage compartment. After having to be yanked out, it made a slow ring around the Starcycle. TOM slowed down some to make it easier. When the robot looped back up, it displayed a frown.

"Okay, so there's a problem … What is it? Can you display it somehow?" Clyde nodded down at the Starcycle's undercarriage. "Fine, I'll check it out myself. We're kind of in a rush, though, and this wouldn't be so difficult if …" He shook the thoughts from his head. "No, forget it. Bigger issues." After killing momentum and repulsing the vehicle to a standstill, he disengaged his feet from the magnetic foot plates and swung his body down beneath it. "Honestly, though, this bike has ten times functions than you guys have … well, had."

Underneath, he spotted some cosmetic damage from when he'd used the Starcycle to shield himself, but the most serious issue was a sliver of shredded metal that was lodged at the base of the thruster housing. It had sliced into the fuel delivery system.

He began shaking his head in frustration, clutching it with fingers that, although bulky and harmless by design, were suddenly very tense. "Noooo, _NO!_ One lousy-ass piece of shrapnel, that's what's keeping me from looking for Sara! Just great." With no tools, and therefore no way to fix the fuel line, he left the shrapnel where it was and pulled himself back into the seat with resignation. Funny how you could linger in the middle of an environment where no gravitational force existed and feel so much weight on your shoulders.

He couldn't help thinking now that it would've made more sense to abort ten minutes ago when he had actually lost sight of the assault ship. Now that he gave the matter some more thought, it _was_ pretty likely that Orcelot Rex had cloaked his assault ship and changed direction. He was a careful planner and would probably have something in mind to deal with any survivors who could inform the GPP. The odds that the culprit was only a few miles away from the crime scene was actually pretty absurd.

Even if TOM couldn't technically see the outside of his own optic visor, he knew that the floating plethora of rocks was swimming and bending in its reflective surface as he gazed around at them, as if the environment itself were exaggerating its own vast, maze-like nature. He realized that even if a search of the whole rocky wilderness were possible, it would take weeks.

"My gut's tellin' me that Sara and Rex are in here, Clyde, but … _urgh!_ I don't even know where to start!" The needle-in-a-haystack metaphor had never carried so much weight.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Through a slowly morphing tunnel of floating rocks he could see the black of space beyond. Still less than twenty miles back, a collection of large uneven chunks surrounded by a debris cloud of the same color, previously known as the _Absolution_, was still within sight. The dark blue material that its windows had been made of ensured their fragments were invisible against the inky backdrop.

"Okay …" He faced forward again. "What's left of the _Absolution_ is still out there and can be used as a marker if we can't find anything out here. It won't be hard to spot. I reckon we have about four minutes of fuel left and I can push along with repulsor power if it comes to that." The two robots, man and glorified appliance, matched stares for a short, tense moment. This was hard for him to say. He sighed. "We'll … search for two minutes … Maybe three."

Tucking the Clyde away, he pushed deeper into the rocky labyrinth, now paying close attention to the asteroids themselves in hopes of the base being disguised as one. Only a minute had been spent when he brought his Starcycle to an abrupt halt. Something was wrong with the quadrant of the asteroid field he had just cruised into. The masses of rock generally allowed enough room for the passage of most ships, from a single-occupant vehicle like the one he was riding now to a medium-sized cruiser like the _Millennium Falcon_ or the _Outlaw Star_. Yet directly before him was an enormous area that was empty enough for two or three _Absolution_s to fit. Aside from a few stray chunks of rock drifting through, he was perched on the edge of flat-out emptiness. It looked as though a space station had been built there and then vanished from existence. There was something ominous about that vacant space that echoed with foreboding.

"I don't like this, Clyde. I got a real bad feeling." The Clyde 52 peered over his shoulder with an amazed emoticon. He gestured with his head. "Go check it out." Clyde shrank back a little, prompting TOM to repeat himself. "Hey! I'm not putting up with cowardly Clydes again. Seriously, go check it out." Clyde settled on a blank face and puttered resolutely into the anomaly. TOM watched it proceed forward with caution. It would occasionally turn its body left or right as if were supposed to be searching for something … and then, much like what TOM had imaged seconds ago to explain the clearing, the Clyde blinked out of sight.

"Whoa, what?" TOM jumped in his seat. He stared at the clear space before him, searching for movement. Nothing. "Um … Hey, Clyde. You there?" Clyde popped back into being moments later with an alarmed emoticon on display. Now that he'd given his confusion a few seconds to settle, TOM saw through the mystery and felt a welcome surge of hope and determination. "Big guy has a cloaking shield all around his whole base, doesn't he?" Clyde didn't respond, and TOM wondered for the first time if this model was even programmed for the ability to answer yes or no. Regardless, he checked his fuel gauge (on empty) and tucked the Clyde away.

"Hang tight, Clyde, we're going in." Using just repulsar power, since there was no way of knowing what kind of sensors Rex might have, he eased up to where he estimated the cloak's event horizon was. The Starcycle's nose touched it and encountered some bizarre resistance, as if the bike were passing through a membrane that had repelling magnetic fields on its opposite surfaces. A vibrating sensation swimming through TOM's body accompanied the phenomenon.

"That was kinda weird. I wonder wha …" Orcelot Rex's fortress appeared before him. And there truly was no better word to describe it than fortress. It was too gargantuan to determine any distinguishable shape, but the lower half was boxy with massive thrusters, stabilizers, ports, and other housings. The upper half was a blend of contours from several other ships or space station hulls. Overall, it was a very random construction that looked as though major sections from three or four different space stations had been welded and riveted together with smaller parts from a dozen more.

This was also where TOM noticed another layer to the station's camouflage: it was too big to exist in the clearing it was in. The cloaking device's functions included more than just masking the base by freely transmitting light through from the other side. It also created depth to the extent of adding computer-generated asteroids. Most of the asteroids he'd seen within a particular radius were just illusions projected by the cloaking device. But in actuality, this fortress occupied the majority of that space.

That was about as much as TOM had time to realize. Within the next second, the fortress targeted him and opened fire.


	5. Intent

Disclaimer: Original characters and universe belong to Sean Akins and Jason DeMarco.

A/N: This is an important message: I am a procrastinating jerk. My only excuse is writer's block. It has taken far longer than it ever should have for me to get these chapters out, and anyone who hasn't forgotten or disregarded me is an absolute saint. So, to anyone who is still awaiting Toonami fanfiction from yours truly: my sincerest apologies, and thank-you. You understand that a game like this requires patience.

So it would probably be a good idea to finally submit this, even if it's not as perfect as it should be. Just one thing you should know: don't expect Orcelot Rex to say anything along the lines of: "When Toonami is in ashes, then you will have my permission to die." Because he won't. Mainly because he's already destroyed Toonami.

Anyway, TOM has been waiting forever to rescue Sara, Sara's been as patient as the rest of you, and Rex has yet to get his butt kicked (somehow), so let's not keep them waiting.

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><p><strong>ENDGAME<strong>

**Episode 5: Intent**

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><p>The most prevalent question on Sara's constricted mind was what use a space criminal like Orcelot Rex could have for an advanced AI matrix that refused to cooperate. Because she certainly wasn't planning to make things easy for him. It was conceivable that the tech he currently had set up would be used toward the goal of forcing her into some form of action, but she still had plenty of free will, perhaps more than he appeared to realize. There wasn't much a machine could do to her aside from some form of psychological torture.<p>

Presently, Orcelot Rex was standing nearby punching data into a terminal that was built into the platform on which her cube was stationed. His cold eyes barely changed as they glanced up at a red warning flash in the corner of his screen. "There's an intruder." He said it in a calm yet vaguely incredulous voice that someone would reserve for denying bad news received during a cubicle job.

Sara knew without a second guess who the bad news was. _Dammit, Tom._

* * *

><p>For what felt like the dozenth time in his life, TOM regretted finding himself caught up in a deadly and frenetic situation in which being blown to smithereens was a constant risk. But considering that hosting television didn't necessarily prep him with career skills for the sort of thing Gene Starwind had to deal with, he decided that, all things considered, he was doing okay.<p>

For the last few seconds he had been roughly jerking the handlebars of his Starcycle and punctuating almost every twist and turn with shouts of alarm. He felt the reactor in his chest growing warmer and producing a vague buzzing that vibrated through his circuitry, mechanics, and casing; this was a robotic substitute for a heightened heart rate and adrenaline. His expressionless face belied the intensity within his mind (such as the rapid rate at which his brain fired off do-or-die commands), but said intensity was definitely manifested in the flashes and bursts that were lighting up his optic visor.

Turret fire from the space station zipped his way from every angle as he sought as many crevices and protrusions as he could reach for cover, which thankfully wasn't scarce. Size was also on his side: these turrets only had enough precision to hit larger attacking forces, so a single-occupant bike was like a firefly. But that didn't mean fireflies weren't viable targets, especially where there were so many guns; the Starcycle was experiencing a number of close nicks as its frame gathered burns and lost chunks of its bodywork, and its rider could feel the heat grazing his back and the impact shuddering through the bike. He was a lone mobile object in a crisscrossing quilt of strafing gunfire.

Another near hit blasted a small chunk from one of the thrusters, knocking him askew. The fuel gauge had already been on zero during his approach, which meant that if he kept this up much longer he'd be a sitting duck and the hits would be much nearer. The only thing keeping him in no-man's-land was his search for an easy way in. Or a hard way, now wasn't a good time to be picky.

He scanned the warped exterior of the space station until his search finally came to rest briefly in the nexus between two incongruous sections. There was no getting through the docking ports themselves without codes or infiltration gear, so he had been thinking that something like a window or small maintenance hatch would yield. Instead of being bolted in, the hull panel he had just found among the chaos had four metal strips welded across each side. It looked at first glance like a solid kick could do it in.

Mentally marking the spot, he aimed the bike's nose at the nearest asteroid outside the cloak and sped for it. With defensive fire hot on his tail, he shot through the cloaking field's radius and prayed he could take cover before his Starcycle followed in the footsteps of his ship.

This was when he realized that the barrage had ceased. He slowed up next to the asteroid and pulled a one-eighty. Where a split-second before there had been at least three plasma turrets at a time blasting away at him, there was now just quiet emptiness with a few of those CGI asteroids drifting through the space in which he knew a huge construction loomed. But for some reason the construction inside that disguise had stopped shooting at him.

"Okay, what's goin' on here …" he muttered half to the Clyde and half to himself. After a moment's thought, which also gave him the breathing room to get unfrazzled, he snapped his large fingers as well as anyone could in a soundless vacuum. "I got it. It's that weird barrier that had me puzzled a minute ago. I'll bet it keeps all the plasma fire inside by negating it somehow, so there aren't any stray shots to light up the place. Smart bastard."

He leaned back in his seat and gestured helplessly. "Now the big question is, how the heck do I get in there? Can't exactly stop and pick the lock even if I had the tools to get that done." _Then again, if this Clyde has the right kind of parts inside …_ He glanced at the hubcap-shaped robot. The Clyde turned and stared curiously back at its own reflection in his dark, unresponsive visor. They remained locked in a silent stalemate that lasted just a bit longer than it really needed to before TOM looked away and dismissed the idea. _Nah, it'd take too long._

Another minute had drained away in the quiet vacuum while the former Toonami host thought through his limited options and the Clyde continued to be useless._ Smart heroes think their way around problems_, he recalled a previous version of himself dictating._ Look at a situation, see what needs to be done_. With these words sinking in, he hunched forward and settled his fingers on the handlebars, slowly being overcome by a determination that was threatening to become suicidal in the next minute.

"Guess I'm not gonna know how weak that hull panel is unless I try it. And I've already used this thing like a battering ram once today." Pushing himself up to see the forward housing of his Starcycle, he noted its busted-in appearance. The fact that it was surface damage was encouraging, but it would still be a good idea to keep in mind that a metal hatch, even a loose one, was totally different from a plexiglass elevator door. It would be a game of chicken worth playing, though. _And speaking of taking risks …_

He peered back through the swarm of weightless boulders, expecting to catch a glimpse of the _Absolution_'s remains, but the spot was now blocked from view by the forest of crater-filled rocks. _Maybe this isn't so smart._

Here was yet another tough call he was being held up by. The Galactic Police Patrol would be showing up at the scene of the crime, and if TOM wasn't present, they would have no witness to point their search in this direction. The time TOM could spend waiting for them to arrive might not even be worth it if anything happened to Sara between now and then. Certain feelings were drawing him back to the site of the _Absolution's _demise, yet he couldn't escape a forlorn knowledge that there wasn't really anything left to return to.

He drummed the handlebars of his bike, grunting over his dilemma and trying, in these last few moments of decision-making, to figure which risk carried a greater payoff. His options came down to sticking his neck out to save Sara or risking hers by retreating to wait for the GPP. Either way could doom both of them in the long run.

"Looks like this is the moment of truth. Either go back and wait with the wreckage for the cops to show up or go busting in half-cocked. I sure can't just hang around here forever." As an afterthought, he regrettably added, "Like Gohan said, it's all or nothing, no in-between." Rex had already demonstrated that he was a man who made damn sure he did what he set out to accomplish, so whatever master plan he needed an Advanced AI Matrix for was probably already in progress.

Unfortunately, he had to face reality. He had some brains and a passable measure of brawn, but Rex had tremendous amounts of both. This wasn't even a David versus Goliath situation, seeing as he didn't have a proverbial rock sling to use as a magic bullet against the giant. Short TOM's sage advice was useless at this point.

However, as his thoughts wandered back to the original crew of the _Absolution_, they drew upon an earlier source of wisdom. "Hmm … What would Moltar have said?" Fact was, he didn't even need to ask. That was one of many speeches he knew by heart. Omitting the parts that didn't necessarily apply, he ran Moltar's words through his head: _"How many heroes do you think there are? What would it be like without them? No hero to stand up. An end to nobility … purity … heroism. Without heroes …"_

"… There would be only villains," TOM finished aloud. "Okay, I'd say that clinches it. I'm going in." He adjusted his aim and revved up the engine, prepping it to shoot off while hoping it wouldn't cost him too much fuel.

Alas, there was just _one_ more reason for him to pause. The thought struck him that he could get into the bad guy's lair _and_ make sure the GPP came to the rescue. He could have slapped himself. Clyde wouldn't be so useless after all.

"Clyde." He jerked a thumb confidently over his shoulder. "Head on back to the _Absolution_'s wreckage. Be ready to lead the cops to this location when they show up. Got it?" The Clyde stared back at him blankly. "Oh, come on, man. Don't tell me you can't even … I mean it's only…! Jeez."

Unfortunately, he'd skimmed the tech specs on these Clydes and was remembering just now that they could only coordinate themselves within a five hundred meter radius of the ship they were registered to. Suppressing his exasperated grumbles, he refocused on the empty space ahead of him where he knew there was an entryway waiting to be busted down and a job he would have to do by himself. "Fine, forget it. I don't have time for this. More importantly, neither does Sara."

He opened the Starcycle up for the last time and blasted off. The large asteroids he'd been hiding amongst pulled back from his peripheral vision like the edges of a tunnel while the huge twisted fortress suddenly popped into existence directly before him, blocking his vision of the vast asteroid field with a very close metal hull. In that same instant, the space around him became occupied by waves of bright, zapping turret fire. It was do or die time. TOM leaned down and executed an evasive series of swerves and rolls while zeroing in on his target.

_Almost feels like the sixth level of _Dropship _… That ain't good._

At the last split-second, another idea jumped into his head. He about-faced, forcing his bike to a smooth break with its thrusters just inches from the hatch. The blazing surge of heat and pressure softened it up a little. Rocketing in the opposite direction now, TOM punched back out of the cloak's event horizon and made a U-turn around the nearest asteroid. He used the short respite to check his fuel gauge, which had been on empty for a while, but was now blinking to indicate the reserve fuel was about to run completely dry. Then the turn was complete and he was rocketing back into the space station's range of fire, leaning and dodging as it came at him from all angles. The outside of the station and the networking turret fire filled his vision. A dozen meters closer and it was just the station's outer hull rushing toward him. Then another few seconds and all he could see was the tenuous hull panel directly before him.

At the moment of impact, his Starcycle yielded first. Just as his reactor was leaping into his neck component, the weakened hull panel caved also and allowed him access to the base in the safest manner he had any right to expect.

Then several unfortunate things happened simultaneously. As soon as the hull panel broke inward, he experienced an all-encompassing rush of air screaming into his face. The breach and the escaping oxygen occurred in the same instant a plasma beam finally landed a critical hit on his bike, blowing away half the thruster housing. The impact from the beam and the jacked-up output from the damaged thrusters pushed him into the darkness of the station at a clumsy angle. He found himself careening violently down whatever narrow passageway he was currently in, ricocheting dangerously off bulkheads he couldn't see. A slowly diminishing source of light alerted him to an emergency hatch that was grinding shut to seal off the breach. He held on for dear life, keeping the throttle open despite the dangerously close confines and hoped that what remained of his Starcycle could carry him through these last few seconds. The bike's nose scraped the floor, bounced off the edge of the closing hatch, and finally jammed itself and its driver into a new passage. The hatch crunched shut on what was left of the thrusters, causing an unwanted explosion that launched the driver-cum-rider from his seat. TOM struck a bulkhead two feet in front of him, crashed against the hood of his bike, and hit the floor face-down like a rag doll.

He remained motionless for at least a full minute, closely examining the floor (he noted it was dirty). His body was pummeled, his vision was malfunctioning, his back was scorched, and his bike was wedged sideways across the passage above him. When he at last found the strength to move, he turned himself onto his back to see the Clyde hovering over him like the light over a dentist's chair. Somehow it had managed to not get destroyed during the fiasco, meaning TOM had more than one reason for the groan he uttered.

"No offense, but you're the last thing I wanna see right now." He shoved the Clyde away with a shaking hand and looked down at himself, raising one leg and then the other to make sure they hadn't been disintegrated. Then he checked both of his hands. By some miracle, all limbs were present. "I can't believe I'm still alive." He heaved an audio-only sigh of relief. "That had better have been the hard part, 'cause it was, fighting Rex is gonna be a piece of cake." He took another few seconds to steel himself for the challenge of rising to his feet. "Alright, here I come, Sara."

He hauled himself up, then staggered around on shaky knee joints before cracking his head on the wedged Starcycle and returning to the floor with a clunk. "… I'll be there in a minute, Sara."

* * *

><p>Sara, still justifiably frustrated with the base parameters of the holographic projection she was stuck with, glanced around the central chamber again. Aside from the piles of scraps, there were symmetrical holes in the floor plating, some of which was warped, some of which had been peeled up. Once upon a time, heavy industrial machines had been torn up from the floor. And Rex had apparently done it with his bare hands. She shuddered at the thought of what would happen if the criminal got those hands on TOM.<p>

"Nice place you've set up," she commented dryly. From her current angle, it was impossible to see the monitor Rex was focusing on. It was providing him with updates of events unfolding outside his command center/junkyard. All she had discerned was that some turrets on his outermost layer of defense had activated. "I would like to point out that grand schemes usually require organized minds. The only cases in which that isn't true is when the instigators are ingenious madmen flying by the seat of their pants. Are you honestly planning a hostile takeover of some sort using a junkyard as your base of operations?"

"What you see is a cosmetic result of this facility's function. Give me a reason to clean it up," Rex retorted flatly without looking at her.

"It wouldn't kill you to at least kick aside all the garbage."

"The scale and scope of my goals is worth far more attention than the need to have a clear workspace. Besides, this isn't the only base in the universe I have. The others look the same. It would be pointless to waste time on the appearance of each and every base when I barely spend a decent amount of time in any one of them. My goals are on a scale that breaches whole space sectors."

"But you did mention you have minions. I'm supposing that doesn't include any robots of the upkeep and maintenance variety."

"Only what I need."

Sara intoned her next statement very carefully. "Then not many security units, I expect."

She couldn't tell if the glance he gave her was a cold, condescending glare or an ironic sneer that suggested he knew what she was trying to figure out. It was hard to tell when her enemy's face was just a helmet with eyes. She realized with irony how much easier it was for her to read TOM at a glance. Now, trapped and useless on her platform, she was left wondering how much she should fear for his safety. Her fears spiked, however, when Orcelot Rex announced, "The turrets are inactive. I can only assume that means they've done their job."

* * *

><p>TOM left his Starcycle where it was, jammed horizontally across the hallway. He had extracted his trident and hooked it up to the vehicle's battery to fill up the pseudo-weapon's power bar. He was glad the trident had survived the ordeal unscathed. Even if it couldn't officially be called a weapon, it was the closest thing he had.<p>

Proceeding deeper into the base, he contemplated the amazing circumstances so far. At the top of the list was the fact that the turrets outside had had a hard time hitting him because his Starcycle was smaller than what they'd been programmed to aim at. _Huh, small vehicle equals big trouble for the villain and his huge base,_ he thought wryly. _That logic actually worked. Sorry for all those thread posts, Mr. Lucas._

In the main corridors, there was more open space than the narrow conduits in which he had left the Starcycle. He began exploring the dark interior, constantly aware of the echoing clanks that marked every step he took. After a few minutes of walking, he glanced down at his treacherous feet. The _Absolution_ had been a pretty clean ship, but in here his feet were soon coated with the grime and dust that textured every surface. Deep within its thick girders and bulkheads, heavy machine noises resonated from the stomach of the base. Those sounds dredged up some memories from he had of Gideon Alpha-12 after his assembly and activation. The big difference, however, was that Alpha-12 had not been sealed against the vacuum of space, so he couldn't entirely compare it with the ominous sounds in Rex's base. He had never heard the noises of heavy industry echoing through the stale oxygen of a mostly-inactive facility in the eerie way he heard them now, and it creeped him out. The way they pounded and thundered through the space station's bones made it sound as though an army was being built.

Across the floor of the passage, he noticed plenty of scattered and forgotten scraps from robots. It wasn't hard to picture Orcelot Rex marching through and destroying everything that moved, cannibalizing the remains of his targets, then ignoring whatever he had no use for. In fact, as TOM knelt to examine a chunk of casing, he could clearly see that this piece of metal had been scorched by a photon-based weapon, then flattened by a giant boot. The guy just blew up and stomped over anything he didn't care for. _I should know,_ TOM thought, his mind still fresh with images of the _Absolution_'s remnants and his back still aching where Rex's shoe size had been planted.

He scanned the area further, but not much of the station's indoor character was actually discernible to the naked eye. Rex probably had an array of visual settings built in to his head, because there was almost no light here to speak of. There had to be a measure of light coming from somewhere for TOM's optic receptors to catch it, but it only carried down the corridors far enough to ensure he wasn't completely blind every step of the way. His night-vision, still damaged from the various blows to his helmet, was working well enough that his journey through these dark passages was only pitch black thirty percent of the time. Normally this would just unsettle him, but there were a few other things about the base that put his nerves on edge.

Firstly, as he had already acknowledged, the place was pressurized. This didn't hinder him in any way, but it did mean that every step he took, no matter how cautious, created sound waves that could easily alert anyone or anything to his presence. The debris that occasionally found its way under his big feet to be crunched or sent scattering didn't make him any more comfortable.

And secondly, he wasn't alone. His audio receiving equipment picked up a series of uneven footsteps. He took this as a cue to sidestep into an alcove, hoping he was doing it quietly. The Clyde followed suit. He watched patiently until some haphazardly-welded conglomeration of robot parts hobbled past his hiding place.

He was already near a dim light source, so his optics penetrated the dark well enough for him to see what Rex had in store for intruders. The security robot walking past was a "modified" crowd control automaton, the type that featured a pleasant face, a head mounted on an arched bar between its shoulders, and arms built to stay fixed in a downward position so they could never be raised in aggression. This one's head, though, had been half-crushed by Rex's fist, the torn section jury-rigged with a camera. Its arms were refitted with a scanner and a plasma pistol. From its mechanical movements and blank expression, it was clear there was no AI matrix inside. It was just an empty drone, like any Clyde.

Once it had passed, TOM stepped out to watch it continue along its patrol route.

It quickly became obvious that relinquishing his hiding spot had not been a good idea; the sound of heavy rubber treads covering ground with a subdued rumble preceded the arrival of something else. TOM turned to duck back out of sight, only to realize that the acoustics of the hallway had thrown him for a loop. A towering monstrosity of a security robot, most of its body invisible in the dark, had already targeted him as it came rolling in from another corridor and turned in his direction. There was only a thin shred of illumination from around the corner, but it was just enough for him to glimpse of is industrial-size treads and the general shape of its upper chassis, which was wide at the top to support its servo-heavy arms. The rest of its body was hidden in the shadows.

_Fate is being such a bitch to me right now,_ he complained.

He was only alerted to its triple-jointed arms lunging through the dark by the sound of its powerful, yet deceptively quiet servos. Surprised by its reach, he managed to duck it and dart past the security bot.

The security robot rotated the top half of its body swiftly, its size making the movement menacing, while its treads ground in opposition to each other to keep the rest of itself facing the right way. A few inches beneath its optical lens, a red plasma bolt fired in his general direction, grazing his helmet and lighting up his vision. He staggered from the shock of blindness and bad footing, but struggled to keep circling with the barest hope of staying out of range.

_Seriously, the hell is up with this thing?_ he wondered. _It's an advanced enough model that it should be able to see me and blow my head off with no problem, but it missed. I ain't complaining, but I'm definitely confused._

Although the dark was just a hair shy of absolute, a mentally frazzled TOM noticed a few other things were off. As soon as he lit up the shadows with his pathetic trident, he zeroed in on the security robot's upper arm where some casing was missing. He also noticed that the front of its chassis, which was narrow like the prow of a boat, had some mismatched plating and clumsy welding. He swung for the exposed wires in the arm.

The trident may have essentially been a toy, but it had also been a pretty expensive one, so he was gratified when the prongs sliced through the security bot's mechanics. Enough was severed that the giant arm dropped from its position and dangled by a few cables and wires. TOM used the opportunity to make a break for it. He snapped off the trident and skimmed around the corner, then ran until the sound of the security bot's electric motor could no longer be heard.

_What is _up_ with all these lousy defenses? _he thought as he ran._ I seriously don't think Rex is putting up a show just to make me think I'm working for it so he can lure me in. I'm barely a threat to the guy._ He encountered a T-junction and took the more illuminated passage. _Just one more mystery Sara and I will probably never figure out._

His chest grew heavy as thoughts of Sara once again weighed on his mind. _'Course we'll never get a _chance_ to solve anything if I never find her. She's gotta be … _His current train of thought tapered off at the sight of some markings on the wall that looked surprisingly familiar.

And after a few seconds, he suddenly knew why. It was hard to tell under the rust, wreckage and degradation, but the corridors of Orcelot Rex's facility were starting to look very familiar now. The digits on the wall matched the same number system and stencil font used inside Gideon Alpha-12: the same construction platform on which his very body had been assembled … well, his previous body. The installation Rex had cannibalized, the section of the space station he'd been running through, had likely been built by the same company.

"Which means …" TOM continued his train of though out loud. "I know how to find the main construction chamber! And that's where Sara will be."

* * *

><p>"So," Sara began, finally beginning to recognize this part of the space station as the inside of a construction chamber, though she had no idea what for. "You have an advanced AI matrix in your possession. I'm curious as to what you intend to use that sort of power for."<p>

"I shall use you very responsibly," Rex replied as if this were a painfully obvious statement.

"Been reading Steve Ditko?"

Rex shot her a glare to show that he didn't understand and didn't give a damn that he didn't understand.

She persisted, "You've already told me that your goal is the attainment of further power, which is a goal characteristic of tyrants and dictators. Hardly a responsible or level-headed lot. So that can't be the case." Leaving him with an opening into the conversation, she awaited a response. So far, he had felt comfortable mentioning that he had serious plans. She wanted to see how secure he felt in his ultimate victory, how free he was willing to be with information.

"We appear to have very different definitions of responsibility," he finally responded. He hesitated another minute as his terminal received word from one of his security robots, then continued in his low rumble of a voice. "You were, less than an hour ago, responsible for the operation and maintenance of some insignificant broadcast ship. A few hours from now, you will have _so_ much more to account for." He spared her a glance that chilled her. "A great deal can be accomplished with the capabilities of an advanced AI matrix. And I will claim responsibility for everything I accomplish with you, as well as any destructive—or lucrative—fallout from it."

"Fallout? I don't understand."

"Are you trying to goad me into spilling information?" he said mockingly but menacingly. "That's fine by me. You won't be able to do anything with it."

"You seem inclined to keep up a dialog with me, in spite of the fact that you clearly prefer to work alone."

"And I am working alone. You're just a tool." Sara's holographic face glowered. "But despite being a tool, you are an advanced AI matrix, and therefore an intellectual peer."

"I'm so flattered. Now how about that fallout you mentioned?"

There was a sneer in his next reply. "Wouldn't you rather it be a surprise?"

"I only like pleasant surprises," she said flatly.

"Don't we all."

"Indulge yourself," she said bluntly. "If you don't care about my desire to know how I'm going to be used, then surely you would at least find some personal gratification in laying out these plans of yours to a captivated audience."

Rex understood quite clearly that she was prompting him for the sake of being bold. Again, Sara could detect an ugly expression of mirth within his words. "I will happily oblige."

Despite her deep well of anxiety, Sara was inwardly satisfied. _It's about time I got some real bloody information._

* * *

><p>TOM arrived in the entryway of a vast central chamber. It was littered with enough scrap material to look like another No Man's Land, this time in a junkyard rather than the outside of a space station, and near one end he spied Orcelot Rex towering over Sara's cube. He had shown up just in time to hear Rex's last few words.<p>

"Goody. I made it for the monologue."


End file.
